


What We Are

by Athena1919



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Dancing, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Fae & Fairies, Fairies, Gratuitous Use of the Irish Language, If You Squint - Freeform, Irish Language, Irish Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Musicians, Sidhe, Vaguely Based on Medieval Ireland, Viktor as a Fairy, Will Eventually Be Rated M, You're Welcome, Yuuri as a Harpist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-20 22:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16564313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athena1919/pseuds/Athena1919
Summary: If there's one thing Yuuri is wary of as an ollamh, a master of the harp, it's the sidhe. While many other musicians, writers, and artists of all kinds are eager to meet and please a powerful sidhe with their craft and claim one of the blessings the sidhe are so well-known for, Yuuri is more wary of their mercurial nature than anything else. He can even convince himself that he's fine on his own on any day that he doesn't have to play for the other olluna.That's true, at least, until he meets Viktor, a captivating daoine sidhe who challenges everything Yuuri knows about the otherworldly beings and whisks him away to Mag Mell. Suddenly, Yuuri finds himself being offered everything he's ever dreamed of but unable to accept any of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, a big thanks to [@cleardye](http://cleardye.tumblr.com/) for making art for this fic! I'll be adding that to the fic as soon as it's ready. Thank you to the mods and everyone from the Victuri Big Bang this year, it's been fantastic. Also, as always, all my love to [artemis1919](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemis1919), who can also be found on her [Tumblr](http://artemis1919.tumblr.com/). I'd literally be nowhere without her. Before we start, some notes on language for those of you maybe not as familiar with Gaeilge/Irish Gaelic:
> 
>  _Sídhe_ \- Irish fairies, essentially, but with all of the magic and none of the compassion. Don’t refer to them as fairies, it’s disrespectful.  
>  _Sídhthe_ \- plural of sidhe  
>  _Cláirseach_ \- the Irish harp  
>  _Cuirm_ \- Irish ale, but a very old kind that's not really made anymore. Super strong. Served at so many feasts that the word for feast is also _cuirm_. It's now spelled _coirm_ , though.  
>  _Uisce beatha_ \- literally, "water of life". So, naturally, it's whiskey.  
>  _Ollamh_ \- generally, means master or professional. They were a class of artisans, essentially, who were able to make careers out of their music/art/craft.  
>  _Ollúna_ \- plural of _ollamh_  
>  _Ard Ollamh_ / _ollúna_ \- “high” _ollamh_. In this fic, the best of the _ollamh_ for each art form.  
>  _Rí Ollamh_ \- “King” _ollamh_. A female in this fic, but it works as a title.
> 
> More language notes will be added as more Gaeilge is used. See the bottom for links to music and lyric translations, as well as a couple other things if you're feeling particularly curious.
> 
> Enjoy!

We long for purple distances

Seen only from afar :

We think we want the nearness

Of a million-pointed star :

And reason is unreason

While we are what we are.

            Kathleen Millay

__________

Yuuri could hear the whispering among the _ollúna_ in the audience. The solid weight of the _cláirseach_ , the harp, that he clasped his hands around was comforting, but he couldn’t just sit there forever. He was expected to play. His hands moved up and down the neck, plucking strings and adjusting the tuning pins thoughtlessly.

The other master harpists gathered in front of him were growing restless. The _cláirseach_ had been tuned at the beginning of the _ollúna_ ’s meeting, but Yuuri hadn’t been paying attention to that very closely, and the tuning was off a bit now that a few _ollúna_ had played. Yuuri had prepared a piece for the night. He’d played it for Celestino earlier, when it had been just he and the _Ard Ollamh_. Celestino, despite being the highest and most respected of the _ollúna_ of the harp, wasn’t intimidating for it. Perhaps it was because he’d taught Yuuri most of what he knew of harp playing, and had sponsored Yuuri himself when it came time for a new harp _ollamh_ in Yuuri’s province to be chosen.

Yuuri couldn’t remember the music, though. He could recall the way it felt, like fresh air and freedom, but the notes eluded him. He could improvise, couldn’t he? He couldn’t keep tuning the harp. It had already been a minute of that and Yuuri had almost finished anyway.

He definitely couldn’t improvise. But he had to play, it was required that everyone play a piece at the meetings. If he couldn’t remember the piece he was going to play and he couldn’t improvise, he’d just have to play something he knew inside and out so that he wouldn’t mess up. And then he was done tuning and there was no time and the _ollúna_ were shuffling in their seats. His arms reached out and he plucked a string, and another, and another until he had a chord.

He recognized the song he was playing, his fingers slipping thoughtlessly across the strings. It brought back memories of calm nights, soft blankets, and warm fires. It was a simple lullaby with predictable chords, but it was a piece he’d always know how to play.

There was already murmuring in the crowd about his choice of music. It was easy, he knew, but he tried to make the emotion of the piece come out to distract from that. It wasn’t working as he wished for it to. Amongst the children and villagers that he usually played for, he may have gotten away with such a stunt. He’d done fine at Yuuko and Takeshi’s wedding, despite his slight nervousness over the crowd there. None of those people were musicians, though. The _ollúna_ undoubtedly were, and they valued technical pieces over most anything else. The people of his province listened to enjoy, the _ollúna_ listened to judge.

Yuuri closed his eyes, trying to drown out the feeling of being watched with the soothing resonance of the music. He could feel it deep within himself when the vocals were supposed to enter, could practically hear the smile in his mother’s voice as she joined the strains of the harp. He’d started playing the _cláirseach_ in the first place so that she would have music to sing to.

“That’s Suantriathe that he’s playing, isn’t it?” A hushed voice drifted up from the front of the crowd.

“Yes. I don’t know why he is, it’s a beginner’s piece.”

There were more whispers rising from the crowd, most too indistinguishable to make out. Yuuri couldn’t believe they were benevolent, though. The best reaction one could expect from the _ollúna_ was silence. For them to be whispering during a performance was blatantly disrespectful. Yuuri should’ve expected as much as soon as he’d stepped foot in the meeting and seen the gathered _ollúna_. He hadn’t been able to breathe for the next few minutes after that. He didn’t know what it was about this meeting that was so much worse than others—he thought that after a year of being an _ollamh_ he’d be used to it by now—but it caught him off guard. Just like the whispers did.

And suddenly his fingers betrayed him. He could feel them shaking on the strings, and when he tried to stiffen them it got worse. He cringed at the harp’s tone, the notes sounding rushed and dissonant with each other.

Yuuri wasn’t sure if the whispers grew then, or if his awareness of them did. They seemed overwhelming, drowning out the sound of the harp. He couldn’t hear what he was playing anymore, his arms moving mechanically although he didn’t believe it was doing any good anymore. His vision was blurry and he could feel his heart pounding at his fingertips. The carvings on the _cláirseach_ in front of him were indistinguishable from each other, a squiggling mess, but when he looked out into the audience he could make out Celestino looking back at him pityingly.

The last note of the verse rung out, flat and metallic. His hands slid down the strings making a faint zipping sound as they did. He stood. There were people clapping politely, hesitantly, as though they weren’t sure if they were supposed to or not, and although Yuuri saw their hands moving together, the sound wasn’t registering. He stepped down from the raised platform they used as a stage and walked through the side door.

He made it into the men’s powder room. The blurriness that had been building in his eyes spilled over. It was quiet.

__________

He came out later, when he knew that the post-meeting banquet would be well underway. It was little more than an excuse to party and gossip, but his stomach hadn’t been pleased with the idea of walking home directly after exiting the powder room. He’d performed toward the beginning of the meeting, so with any luck everyone would’ve forgotten about him already. He collected a plate from the food table and stood towards the back of the room, behind a table spread with drinks.

No one played the _cláirseach_ after the performances, but many of the _ollúna_ were well-versed in more than one instrument, and a few were playing a simple tune for dancing.

Yuuri thought he should at least say good-bye to Celestino before he made a run for it, but the _Ard Ollamh_ was surrounded by a circle of people. That, and the _ollúna_ enjoyed the scent of weakness and Yuuri’s eyes were still puffy. No one had payed Yuuri any mind thus far and he wasn’t about to change that.

Around him, conversation flourished.

“Did you hear that Celestino’s going to retire? He’s gotten tired of the responsibility being on the Council gives him.”

The Council of the _Ollúna_ was the body of _Ard Ollúna_ of every art, from dance and song to storytelling and poetry. The Council was presided over by the _Rí Ollamh_ , who was appointed by the other _Ard Ollúna_ and sat at the king’s right hand. Arguably, the _Rí Ollamh_ had as much power and influence as the king did. There wasn’t a single _ollamh_ in the kingdom who didn’t aspire to be the _Rí Ollamh_ one day.

“I don’t blame him, the _Rí Ollamh_ ’s a hardass. She works the _Ard Ollúna_ like dogs.”

The rumor that Celestino was about to retire had circulated so many times that Yuuri had learned not to put any stock in at all. If Celestino was going to step down, he would’ve told Yuuri. Still, the _ollúna_ coveted his position. They’d beg and bribe and blackmail if it meant they’d become _Ard Ollamh_ after him, although their usual route was to ingratiate themselves. Yuuri spared a glance to the swarm of _ollúna_ surrounding Celestino, then swiped a glass of _cuirm_ from the table, the alcohol burning down his throat.

“JJ was surprisingly good tonight. His pieces were more emotive than I’ve ever heard from him. I’ve never seen that sort of progress in a single month before.”

“I heard him bragging earlier that some _sídhe_ lass had blessed him a few days past. He’s been looking for a _sídhe_ to do so for years now, but I’m surprised it didn’t kill him first for his attitude.”

Yuuri needed more _cuirm_.

“Didn’t she start as an _ollamh_ of dance? You’d think she’d be softer on them.”

The gossip was a bit more bearable when he wasn’t so sober.

“It’s more likely that the _sídhe_ took pity on him than anything.”

“I don’t know, he’s always been a good technical player. Still, I have to admit I’m jealous. The _sídhthe_ don’t just give anyone their gift. She must have thought he was worthy.”

Yuuri drained another goblet of _cuirm_. Those who could gain the _sídhthe_ ’s favor enjoyed magical benefits of sudden wealth or talent, but the creatures were capricious at best and malicious at worst, and there were dangers even to their rewards. There was an entire set of beliefs and behaviors, the _creideamh sí_ , dedicated to staying in their graces. It rarely did anyone any good who met a _sídhe_ face to face. When those meetings did go well for the humans, however, they reaped the kind of benefits that everyone the kingdom over heard about. “You heard that Yuuri Katsuki tonight, didn’t you?”

“The power’s gone to her head. It wouldn’t be the first time, considering only the King has the authority to keep her in check.”

“I’d kill for an opportunity to play for a _sídhe_. Sightings have been rarer lately. And with Celestino retiring, anyone who can gain their blessing is a real competitor for his position.”

Yuuri didn’t have to worry about competing for Celestino’s position, either. He already knew he’d never be appointed as _Ard Ollamh_ , never mind _Rí Ollamh_. Not with the way he played in front of the _ollúna_ , at least. Besides, He wasn’t insane enough to seek out the _sídhthe_ , either, unlike JJ and many of the other _ollúna_. It was an unspoken rule that any _Ard Ollamh_ had been blessed by the _sídhthe_ in their art, so that they were even more talented than they might have been naturally, and the otherworldly approval made them more popular amongst mortals. “I did. It was even less than we’re used to from him, don’t you think?"

The other conversations drifted out of focus, his senses declaring only one of them important enough to warrant even passing attention.

“And he’s stuck up enough to think he doesn’t need the _sídhthe_ ’s help. A lot of people say he even scorns them, and any _ollúna_ who go looking for them.”

“How did he even become an _ollamh_? Surely there must be a harpist in his province more qualified than he.”

“Perhaps, but he’s Celestino’s student.”

“Ah. Well, it’s not like he has the talent to warrant any other advancement of his position. It’d be too obvious at that point.”

He definitely wasn’t drunk enough for this. He drained another flagon of _cuirm_ and considered switching to _uisge_ _beatha_ before deciding it was definitely time to leave while he could still somewhat walk. He made his way over to Celestino slowly. The crowd around his teacher had died down a bit since the beginning of the banquet, but not by much.

He managed to squeeze into the fray and put a hand on Celestino’s elbow. The taller man turned to him, a question in his eyes, and upon glancing Yuuri over ushered him away from the crowd. “What’s happened, Yuuri?”

“I wanted to tell you that I’m leaving.”

“You shouldn’t leave for home in this state. I know you’re upset about tonight, but don’t put yourself in danger. Stay the night here, you’re always welcome in my house. I can show you to an extra bedroom and you can make to journey home in the morning.” Yuuri shook his head for a while.

“No, no, I can’t. I have things to do in the morning. Important things. The roads are safe enough. Thank you though.” He was even worse of a liar when drunk, but Celestino didn’t push him again, as Yuuri knew he wouldn’t. His eyes followed Yuuri out, though, even once he’d rejoined the crowd of _ollúna_.

__________

Yuuri was more than pleasantly drunk, and he knew it. Later, he would happily blame everything that occurred on that fact. But as it was, he was enjoying himself.

The walk back to his town from their meeting house where Celestino lived was pleasant. Along the main roads it took an hour at best, but Yuuri took the looping, sloped pathways that the hunters populated and usually got home in half the time.

The path wasn’t as flat, and went through the hills instead of around them, but it wasn’t a hard trek. Yuuri counted the view of the valley and its lake as being worth it, especially with the stars and moon reflected on its still waters as they were. The elevation as he made his way into the vale, completely surrounded by taller hillsides, gave him a perfect vantage to admire the serenity of the night.

The uneven ground did not, however, allow much room for error, especially when pleasantly drunk. For a brief moment, Yuuri regretted denying Celestino’s offer to stay with him for the night so that he wouldn’t have to make his way home in the dark. Yuuri wasn’t afraid of anything happening, whether it be a run-in with bandits or the _sídhthe_ , and he did have things to do in the morning, so he’d thought it better to decline. Now that he was actually on his way, however, he saw the appeal in a bed he didn’t have to walk far for.

The important part was that he was on his way, and the night was still and stunning. Twilight had past, and with it, much of the risk of running into any wandering _sídhthe_. The veil separating Mag Mell, the home of the fae-like _sídhthe_ , from the mortal world grew thin at dawn and dusk, and any time of transition, such as the solstices.

Yuuri tried to avoid any contact with the _sídhe_ as much as possible. Stories abounded of their magnificence and power, and their magical rewards for any art a human could provide them. Mixed in with those stories, however, were much darker tales of the _sídhthe_ ’s power on unsuspecting or undeserving humans. Although Yuuri believed that one’s own talent and hard work in their art should be all they needed, he didn’t disagree with those who sought the _sídhthe_ enough to say that their punishments were warranted. _Sídhthe_ who disliked an _ollamh_ ’s particular style of art or felt slighted in the least by them were less than gracious, and had no scruples stealing a person’s voice, or looks, or youth.

With the way the cool night wind tousled his hair and the feel of the soft ground underneath his feet, Yuuri thought that he could achieve greatness on his _cláirseach_ with enough hard practice of his own. Either way, he wasn’t about to ask a _sídhe_ for help. He’d just have to show the _ollamh_ that there was a better way than relying on the whims of some mercurial deities.

The thought made him smile, and his smile grew until he was giddy with it. Or maybe that was the ale from earlier. He began humming a familiar tune, opening his mouth to sing when he realized he didn’t want to contain the music any longer.

“ _Fadó fadó Éirinn, roimh theacht don nua-aois, bhí conaí ann ar an bhFiann, Fionn is a mhac Oisín. Is iomaí eachtra a bhain leo siúd, is iomaí casadh croí. Ach ní dhéanfar dearmad ar an lá a bhuail Oisín le Niamh._ ” The words started slowly, dripping from his lips and joining his company with the solitude of the vale. The lake stretched out by his side, the notes resounding through the dip of the hills but failing to disturb its dark waters.

“ _Niamh Chinn Ór, as Tír na nÓg, b'í an bhean ab áille gné a chas ar Oisín Óg. Mheall í é le breathacht, mheall sí é le póg, mheall sí é gan aon agó go Tír na nÓg_ .” The music poured from him now, the melody dancing around him, dancing with him, just as wind and the grass it blew and the ripples across the loch. He looked up and the stars glistened in time with the tempo as it built, the fullness of the moon casting light onto the song. It was the same song that he’d heard sung when his mother calmed his night terrors, albeit more gently then. It was the same song that soothed his sobbing and panicked mind and later was sung in stuttering syllables interspersed with laughter from a younger him and his friends. It was the first melody he’d learned and loved on the _cl_ _áirseach_.

Yuuri closed his eyes, letting the notes run through him and reverberate off his soul and then flow out into the world around him, into the vale and the lake and the hills. “ _Bhí Oisín, lá brea gréine, ag siúl le ciumhais na habhann_ ,” Yuuri could feel the light of the moon and the stars and their watery reflections on his shut eyelids.

“ _Measc blathanna buí, is luachra, taibhsíodh dó an tsamhail, spéirbhean ghléigeal álainn a d'fhag croí an laoich sin fann_.” It was strange, the way the light was growing stronger. Maybe it was because his attention had been called to it? Behind his eyelids, Yuuri could see only the icy white radiance. He opened his eyes, cautious of the increasing brightness. “ _Thug cuireadh dó go ír na nÓg—_ ”

It was the surface of the loch itself that was glowing, bathing the valley in an ethereal light. Yuuri could hardly make out the waters beneath it, and although he could still make out the moon and stars shining down, they were pale in comparison to the rays streaming from the loch.

The light grew until it was too painful for Yuuri to look at and he had to turn away and cover his eyes. It stayed like that for a few beats, then receded enough that Yuuri couldn’t see it in his position and was left stunned.

He looked cautiously to the loch, which still poured radiance, but a dull kind that matched the reflections in its waters.

Yuuri was not alone in the vale anymore. Standing on the shore of the loch was a man, if the being could truly be called that, who was radiating the same gentle brilliance as the water itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is based very (very) loosely on 15th century Ireland, but then I decided to embrace the fantasy and this is what happened. If you have any questions for me about that or anything else (pertaining to the fic or otherwise) there are some links below that might be useful.
> 
> Notes on music:  
> Basic Irish harp music theory can be found [here](http://harptherapycampus.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/RT-CCM1-37.pdf), if you're interested.  
> Suantraithe by Noirin Ni Riain (the harp song from beginning) is on [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-DGJluRhAJ8).  
> For Tir na nOg (the vocals during the walk), lyrics can be found [here](https://mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=49833), and the translation is [here](https://ancroiait.wordpress.com/2014/06/06/271-tir-na-nog-%E2%99%AB/).  
> Expect new chapters up soon and art to come. If you really enjoyed this fic, let me know! If you didn't, be constructive! I'm always looking to improve. If you care to hop over to Tumblr and have a conversation, I can be found on my [Tumblr](https://athena1919.tumblr.com/), or on [LiveJournal](https://athena1919.livejournal.com/) if you prefer.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New words:  
>  _Triúbhas_ /trews- a type of traditional pants kind of resembling leggings  
>  _Ionar_ \- a short jacket worn over a _léine_ (tunic) with openings on the inside of the sleeves to let the sleeves of the _léine_ hang through  
>  _Daoine sídhthe_ \- people of the mounds, since _sídhe_ refers fairy mounds as well as the fairies living inside of them. Arguably the most powerful and human of the _sídhe_ , although they're also basically gods. Or nature spirits. Also variously thought to be/referred to as the _Tuatha Dé Dannan_ , which were deities descended from a goddess named Danu, but there's little proof that such a goddess existed.  
> *Note: For information on the other mentioned species of _sídhthe_ , Google is your friend!  
>  _Rince fada_ \- A type of dance that probably existed about the time of this fic's hypothetical setting. Basically, two lines, one of women and one of men, and you kind of interact with the person across from you but no one really has a partner.
> 
> See the bottom for links to music, and as always—
> 
> Enjoy!

A sickening panic rose through Yuuri, and he was suddenly much more sober than he’d been before. One of his knees started to buckle, but before he could hit the ground, a pale hand gripped his arm and steadied him. He was met with a pair of luminous, arctic eyes. They were unblinking, and a stillness coated the being’s features. A thin band of silver ivy sat atop hair like quicksilver that cascaded down its back.

“You’re perfect!” Its voice was honey-sweet and silvery as the circlet it wore. Yuuri felt himself leaning into it, and it put him on edge.

“You’re one of the _sídhthe,_ ” it wasn’t exactly a question, the way he said it.

“Yes. And you are a human musician. You sing well. My name is Viktor,” it told him. It smiled, but its eyes didn’t move with its lips and made the action seem like a mockery instead of being reassuring to Yuuri. Its hand was still on Yuuri’s arm and he wanted to pull away, to cry out, but he knew things would turn out worse if he proved he was weak.

“Why did you come here?”

“I need a musician.” Yuuri was sure he—Viktor—did, given that the _sídhthe_ themselves were unable to create art of any form. It didn’t clear up what he was planning for the musician, though. “There was not yet a musician for tonight even though we are dancing. I am the host, so I had to find one. I have found you. If you come with me to Mag Mell, I swear that I shall reward you handsomely.”

 _Sídhe_ promises were unbreakable, and they could not lie. They worked around these constraints by dealing in half-truths and omissions and deceptive wording. Mag Mell, the _sídhe_ realm, was dangerous at best and savage at worst. There were many humans who, so ensnared by its beauty, forgot their homes and loved ones to dance with the _sídhthe_ until their death. The _sídhthe_ , who did not age or succumb to disease, did not understand the frailty of humans or their swift demise, and did nothing to stop the humans from killing themselves.

Yuuri could not accept the offer, even with the promise of reward, nor did he want to. He could not spurn it either, for fear of risking Viktor’s wrath. Malicious _sídhthe_ were not what he needed in his life.

“I’m afraid I’m too crude a musician to play in the courts of Mag Mell, although your generosity honors me. Even if I could, I don’t have my _claírseach_ with me.”

“You will find a harp waiting for you in Mag Mell. Please, sir. I have no one else to ask this of, and I will give anything if you but help me this once.” The hand that had gripped Yuuri’s arm slid to clutch his hand. Viktor cover it with his other hand and held Yuuri’s eyes intently, despite all that Yuuri tried to gaze elsewhere. Viktor’s hands were much warmer than Yuuri had expected, and set something within him to light. He blamed the alcohol. He went to deny Viktor again.

“Youmustpromisemysafety.” That was not what Yuuri had meant to say, but the words got jumbled inside his mouth and poured out that way.

“I swear it shall be so.”

“For the journey there and while I’m there and for the journey back here.” It was too late, Viktor’s face had lit up. Genuinely this time, with the entire visage aglow.

“I swear it. No harm shall ever come to you while you are in my care, and you shall have any reward you desire if you but name it.”

Yuuri would be a liar if he ever said the idea was less than tempting. It would be so easy to wish away his anxiety, to say his price was pure talent or fame or worldly wealth. It was what every _ollamh_ of the harp wished for, to find a _sídhe_ benefactor who would grant them the greatest gift with a harp that the world had seen. Gifts forced from the _sídhe_ went horribly awry, often ending in the demise of their bearer, but those offered freely were generally safe to accept.

“I won’t name my price until after I play,” Viktor had already begun to protest, “and if you demand it from me now, you’ll have to find another musician.”

“Very well, but you will perform for me in Mag Mell?” Yuuri nodded. Viktor’s face was pure beauty when he smiled like that, the rose petal pink of his lips accentuated by the same color tones of his tunic. They looked soft, and a little on the thinner side. The way they moved was mesmerizing.

“Yuuri?” Yuuri’s eyes snapped back up to hold Viktor’s. The _sídhe_ stood there, a curious look on his face, like he was waiting for something.

“I apologize, what was it you said?”

“I asked if you were ready to leave.”

“I doubt I will ever be more ready than now,” Yuuri hadn’t even finished his sentence before  he was stumbling along, Viktor pulling him towards the lake by his hand. The _sídhe_ ’s silken hair flowed behind him, as did the rich magenta cloak wrapped around his shoulders. It flashed in the ethereal light that was pouring from the lake once more, and Yuuri couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like the whole thing was covered in delicate silver embroidery.

Yuuri glanced down, curious to see if all of Viktor’s clothes were as opulent as the cloak, but he gasped as his attention was captured by the rippling of the water’s surface under his feet. Viktor turned his head toward Yuuri at the sound, his lips tilting upwards as he noticed the man’s bewilderment. As they reached the center of the lake, the light grew stronger. This time, Yuuri found that it wasn’t blinding. Not in comparison to Viktor’s smile. Or simply in general. He thought it likely to have something to do with the _sídhe_.

Viktor stopped, turning to Yuuri, his face solemn. “We’re going to have to take a shortcut.” That meant a _sídhe_ path, places where the human and _sídhe_ realms overlapped enough for creatures from either side to slip through to the other. They didn’t line up evenly, it was more like they folded over each other, so potentially one could hop into the _sídhe_ realm, take a few steps, and pop back into the human realm halfway across the world.

There were official gates from one world to another as well, but they were few and far between, and only worked at certain times. Still, for any human wanting to get to the _sídhe_ realm, the gates were the only choice. Humans could seek the _sídhe_ paths out and even cross into the liminal spaces, but they went mad from what they experienced there long before they made it to the other side. _Sídhthe_ , on the other hand, had no problem slipping between the cracks in the worlds.

Yuuri had the feeling that he wasn’t going to stop questioning his decision to actually go with Viktor. But then Viktor’s eyes caught his, and he pulled Yuuri by the wrist he was still holding onto until Yuuri stumbled into his chest. Yuuri’s neck craned upwards just the slightest bit to hold Viktor’s gaze.

“Hold onto me. I’ll take us through. Close your eyes and don’t look until I tell you it’s safe. Once we’re on the other side, you’ll be able to look again, but not until then. Not matter what happens, no matter what you hear, you can’t let go of me, understand?”

“Is it really that bad?” Half of Viktor’s mouth tilted upwards.

“For some more than others. You’ll be fine though, Yuuri.” The shape of his name on Viktor’s voice shouldn’t have been as sensuous as it was. “Eyes closed?” He prompted. Yuuri obliged, and found himself pulled closer to Viktor until they were embracing, Yuuri’s arms wrapped around Viktor’s waist from the side and one of Viktor’s arms was thrown over his shoulders. He turned his face into Viktor’s side, trying both to shield himself and resist the urge to peek as Viktor prodded him forward a little. Yuuri took a steadying breath in, the cloyingly strong scent of honeysuckle and cool spearmint from Viktor making him breathe deep.

When Viktor stepped forward into the gap between worlds, Yuuri felt the change despite being blind and encircled by Viktor’s arms, and was sure that he would have fallen if he was not being held up. Everything seemed larger, their combined presence minuscule in the vast area they found themselves in. As they continued forward, Viktor moving them with entirely too much grace for having to maneuver Yuuri, Yuuri could feel the space shifting around them but couldn’t tell if its flowing was from its own movement or theirs. The sound of his breathing echoed in his head along with the pumping of his heart.

He couldn’t tell if they were alone or what else might be out there or how far the vastness stretched out, but Yuuri was certain that knowing the answers to those questions wouldn’t help the nausea roiling through his stomach.

And then it was over.

“It’s safe now, you can open your eyes.” Still, Yuuri took his time, cautious even though a delicate light was shining on the backs of his eyelids rather than the darkness that had enveloped them earlier. His first glimpse of Mag Mell was of that light pouring from behind Viktor’s head, haloing him and setting the silver of his circlet ablaze.

The grass beneath Yuuri’s feet was wild, taller than he was used to but not to the point of being a nuisance. It rippled and stirred, constantly shifting, its color moving with it from blue tones to peridot to a delicate pink into an amethyst and back again, like alexandrite glass.

They stood on a hilltop, a gentle slope curving downwards in front of them that allowed Yuuri to see for miles until the land faded into a deep blue color similar to the night sky Yuuri was accustomed to, except this one was so much more. There was no moon, but the sky housed entire clouds of stardust softly radiating light in whites and golds and pale blues. Stars were gashes of brightness that tore open the canvas of the sky and bled illumination. They were arranged concentrically, radiating out nearly in circles from the center of the heavens.

A warm breeze gusted up to where Yuuri and Viktor stood, fluttering Yuuri’s hair. With it came a chiming sound like a million tiny bells. Yuuri turned to track its path and saw a forest across the hilltop, the trees—if they could be called that—were rustling with the wind, their bark gleaming like bronze and their thick canopies of leaves in tones of gold and brass.

Rising from in front of the forest, looking as though it had grown from its depths, was a castle. It wasn’t a castle in the traditional sense, there were no surrounding walls or guards or anything that appeared to have a defensive purpose built in to the pearlescent white walls. There was one main turret built in to the back of the castle which was almost swallowed by foliage, and even though the walls of the castle gleamed almost blindingly in the strange light, there was ivy covering nearly the entire east side. The ivy was green as in Yuuri’s world, but it was partially translucent and shone like emeralds.

Yuuri didn’t notice how his mouth was hanging open until he turned back to Viktor and saw the mirth sparkling in the _sídhe_ ’s eyes. “This is Mag Mell?” He bent down to study the grass, swaying slightly before his balance held steady, and found that the blades reflected his image back, Viktor’s own visage appearing in the corners. The entire world shone.

Viktor nodded, gesturing towards the nearby castle. “The dancing is inside my house.”

The image of Yuuri in the grass looked so plain, so human.

“Viktor, I can’t- I can’t go in like this.”

“Why not?” Yuuri’s hair was still disheveled from the banquet earlier, his clothes rumpled, his boots and trews splattered with mud and dirt from his aborted walk home. He tugged on his tunic distressedly, one hand simply clinging to the fabric, and Viktor seemed to understand.

The _sídhe_ enclosed Yuuri’s hands with his own and guided him to stand. He placed Yuuri’s hands to cover his eyes and then trailed his own hands down Yuuri’s arms and torso. His touch left warm, tingling trails as it moved along Yuuri’s leg to tap his boots and venture back upwards.

“Alright,” Viktor breathed as his fingers ran through Yuuri’s hair, pushing it back from his face and making him tip his head back from the soft pressure. Yuuri opened his eyes to the upwards curl of Viktor’s lips. “Look,” the _sídhe_ told him, summoning a small silver mirror with a flick of his hand.

His boots were black and pristine, and tight pants resembling _triúbhas_ of the same color were tucked into them. The fabric was smooth and shiny, his fingers could glide across it easily. His tunic had been replaced with an sort of _ionar_ , although the hem hung below the waistline of the _triúbhas_ and the sleeves were long and hugged his arms. It had a small stand up collar and the two sides secured straight down the center of his chest. The left half was that same black fabric, but the right was some sort of translucent silk that was thin and delicate and was crossed with swirls of black piping accented with what appeared to be diamonds, but flashed red when he shifted. They concentrated on his left shoulder and along the right hem and buttonline of the jacket, not in lines so much as constellations.

He looked unworldly. Fey. Confident and powerful in a way he’d never felt before—not even with the help of liquid courage—but would have to be in order to make it through the night. It terrified and thrilled him in equal amounts, especially when he noticed Viktor’s eyes tracking the movement of his hands as they ran along the fabric of the clothes.

He spun towards the castle and took a few sauntering steps towards it. Maybe he’d be appalled with himself when he woke up the next morning to the vestiges of a hangover from all he’d consumed at Celestino’s, but his main goal was to make it to see the morning no matter what he had to do in between. So when he noticed Viktor wasn’t following, he glanced back over his shoulder and in a move that he knew would make his sober self cower, called to the _sídhe_ with a wink, “Coming? Or are you just enjoying the view?”

The way Viktor’s icy eyes widened in response and his steps were rushed imprinted a simper onto Yuuri’s lips. They made it to the large doors that marked the entrance to the castle and Yuuri stopped, turning to Viktor whose gaze held something indiscernible.

The inhuman leaned down, tucking a stray lock of hair back as he did. Viktor’s words seemed to caress Yuuri’s ear, and Yuuri could feel the space on the side of his head where Viktor hovered but didn’t touch him as he whispered.

“ _Fan gar dom, ná fág mé_.”

He stepped back, his eye still holding Yuuri’s, and the doors opened.

They opened into a great hall filled with _sídhthe_ of all ages and physicalities, not just the humanesque _daoine_ _sídhthe_ that made up the most powerful race. There were headless Dullahans, diminutive but merry clurichauns and their cousins the leprechauns, _cat sídhe_ that prowled the corners of the room, humanoid beings with strange animal features that Yuuri figured could only be the shape-shifting _púca_ , selkies with their seal skins wrapped around their shoulders, and even the horse-like _each-uisce_.

They had previously been mingling, moving about the enormous room to socialize and eat. That all stopped when Yuuri and Viktor entered. Silence fell over the assembled _sídhthe_. They parted to reveal the back of the room, where a semicircle dais was set into the wall. On it perched a harp, the wood a rich, dark brown, with carvings etched into every part of it. They were so fine that Yuuri couldn’t make them out for the distance.

He nearly jumped as Viktor linked their arms to guide him forward. The eyes in the hall followed him closely as they began walking towards the dais, and Yuuri swallowed, resisting the urge to pull at his clothes.

“Viktor, I don’t think I can do this,” he hissed.

The hall was maybe a bit longer than it was wide, and had closed doors leading off to either side. The walls the doors were on were lined with grand tables piled high with food. Some delicacies Yuuri recognized, but most he couldn’t place besides the fact that they appeared opulent. Many platters were arranged into sculptures, and he could see some that took the forms of swans, or horses, or foxes.

“Yuuri,” came the response, accompanied by the smallest smile Yuuri had yet to see from the _sídhe_ , “you enchanted me with just your voice. I don’t doubt that you will be ever more surprising when playing the _cláirseach_. I’d like you to believe that as well.”

Yuuri clenched his jaw. He was, after all, there to play.

The walls were the same pearlescent white as the outside of the castle, but here they were accented with blind arches and engaged columns trimmed with gold, just as the doors themselves were. The ceiling was vaulted, its crossbeams that same gold. A chandelier hung from the center of the room, where the crossbeams met, and scones lined the walls. They didn’t hold candles, but orbs that gave off a gentle yellow light that reflected off of the deep green marble of the floor.

Before Yuuri knew it, he was in front of the _cláirseach_ , his arm pulled from Viktor’s in his haste. He sat on the plush stool that had been set on the dais and pulled the harp into his lap, running his fingers reverently along the etchings. The wires glinted golden in the soft lighting.

Yuuri reached for the bottom one, the C, and plucked it. Its deeper tone resonated through the silent hall. It was tuned perfectly.

“Do you like it?” Viktor asked eagerly, standing before the dais but not stepping onto it.

“It’s beautiful.” His hands tested a few more notes to make sure the instrument was tuned to the key of C. “I’ll need to pause in between pieces to retune.”

Viktor shook his head, “It’s enchanted. Whatever key you wish for it to play in, it will.”

Yuuri wasn’t sure how to answer, so instead he hummed thoughtfully and fingered a few more notes. “You said you wanted dancing music?” Viktor beamed.

“Yes! Whatever you think best.” Yuuri had heard stories before about how the _sídhthe_ danced, with little care for anything resembling the structure of the group-style round dances or _rince fada_ that he had learned from the town celebrations. Perhaps they were graceful enough, or different enough physically, that it was better to leave each _sídhe_ to their own devices. Viktor turned as though he was about to walk away.

“Viktor?” The _sídhe_ moved to face Yuuri once more. Their eyes locked. “Don’t take your eyes off of me.” Before Viktor’s baffled expression could fade, he launched into the first piece he could think of, an upbeat number in 3/4 that he’d played for some children in the village square a while back.

Viktor might have stood there forever if he hadn’t been drawn away by the crowd of _sídhthe_ suddenly moving in time to the beat of the music. He still looked vaguely shocked, and Yuuri would have laughed had he not already been drawn into the harp’s crystal tones and the resistance of the strings against the pads of his fingers. Yuuri remembered the children laughing as they tripped over each other and the cobblestones trying to see who could spin the fastest. His fingers may have stumbled over the strings here for a moment, but he pushed onwards anyway.

When the song finished, he launched into another 3/4 piece that did make him laugh when he thought of Viktor. The Fairy Queen, indeed. The piece started simply, but had plenty of embellishments. Enough to keep it interesting and just challenging enough.

His third piece was one of his personal favorites, and he figured it showed given that Yuuko would get that knowing gleam in her eye whenever he played it. It was quick-witted and melancholy, hopeful and disconsolate. It was a piece he could get absolutely lost in, and frequently did.

After that, the music blurred together. He played through all the pieces he knew and ones he didn’t know he knew, but his hands remembered the feel of anyway. Yuuri slowly realized that none of the _sídhthe_ were paying attention to him anyways. Once in a while there might be a curious glance, but otherwise they seemed too absorbed in their own activities to notice his. It was almost boring. Yuuri ran out of pieces eventually, so then he improvised. He knew time was warped in Mag Mell, but not how much. At first he thought it was only from his drunkenness. It had to have been hours since he arrived and yet he felt as though he’d only just gotten there. His hands hadn’t cramped at all and the haze of fatigue pressing at the edges of his mind was only from the monotony thus far. There was still a warmth in his stomach that buzzed throughout his body, making the corners of the room seem to blur and the lights on the walls turn soft and fuzzy.

A suspended chord faded into its resolution, Yuuri closed his eyes to enjoy the slight crunch of dissonance. When he opened them, Viktor stood before the dais once more. The chord hadn’t yet stopped resonating through the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on music:  
> All pieces mentioned are actual pieces of music for the Irish harp, written by Turlough O'Carolan.  
> (these pieces are in the order they are mentioned in the fic, links are to YouTube)  
> [Carolan’s Welcome](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQBENzHolns)  
> [The Fairy Queen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KT_9h11oz_I)  
> [The Dark, Plaintive Youth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z36ozpe-qHw). Put this one on 2x speed. I don’t know why everyone plays it so slowly when it’s in mostly eighth notes in cut time at moderato tempo, but they do.
> 
> I can also be found on [Tumblr](https://athena1919.tumblr.com/) or [LiveJournal](https://athena1919.livejournal.com/) if you'd like to talk!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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